Cookbook Friday: Meatballs

With Freddie Donroe a casualty of the war in 1944, my grandmother, Dora Barbaresi, was left a widow with their infant daughter.  So, how is it that I carry the name Donroe two generations later?  Let me explain.

After a long period of grieving, Freddie’s brother, Albert Donroe, stepped in to ask Dora to marry him.  Albert was actually the Best Man at Dora and Freddie’s wedding (he's standing to the right of Freddie in the picture of the wedding party).  In my mind, I’ve concocted all manner of noble reasons for this proposal.  To provide for Dora the way his brother would have wanted.  To bring up his brother’s child as his own.  To help keep Freddie’s memory alive.  It may have been all of those things, but, let’s face it, she was also cute. 

In an attempt to pick up the pieces of her life, Dora wed Albert and, in doing so, retained Donroe as her married name.  So, Freddie wasn't my grandfather — Albert was.  That marriage turned out to be, um, less blissful.  But the union did produce two sons. 

               

This is my dad, who was born in 1948.  He was named Freddie in memory of the late Freddie who would have, in effect, been his uncle.  Indeed, as adults, there is a striking resemblance between the two.  His brother, Eddie, was born six years later. 

As family lore has it, when my dad was born, the doctor declared him to be not only the most beautiful baby in the nursery, but also the most beautiful baby the doctor had ever seen over the course of his career, and maybe even in the history of the world.

Albert was very proud of his newborn son and was swaggering around by the nursery window when another proud papa and his entourage arrived on the scene.  That father was singing the praises of his newborn son, but he was pointing at baby Freddie.  Albert turned around and said to him, in no uncertain terms, “Who the hell do you think you are?  That’s my son.  That scrawny one over there is yours.”

And maybe now my dad will stop complaining about how I never write about him on my blog, anymore.  Here’s a manly recipe to boot.

Meatballs

Nonni serves these with her lasagna and manicotti.  They are the best.  There’s no convincing me otherwise.

½ lb. ground beef
½ lb. ground pork
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. Italian parsley, finely chopped
1 handful fresh breadcrumbs
1 handful Parmesan cheese
1 egg
Salt and pepper
Canola oil

Using your hands, mix together all of the ingredients in a large bowl.  Roll into round balls.  Heat oil in a large frying pan, and cook, turning meatballs often to maintain their shape, until browned and cooked through. 

Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe
Hamden, Connecticut
1918 –

Next Recipe: Pignoli Cookies

     (Previously: World War II)

Comments

[Deborah Dowd]

Great post and picture! I love these kinds of stories and I hope your dad feels properly honored!

[Tanna]

Certainly a beautiful baby and the story is wonderful. Great meatballs!

[Lisa]

I am blinded by the gorgeousness of that baby! Why he puts the Gerber baby to shame. Well if he was that beautiful then I have no doubt that his children are of equal stunning-ness! (I just woke up)

I need to go get my sunglasses.. back later.

xoxo

[Sally]

Too cute! These are the kind of pictures parents bring out at graduation time to embarrass their children. Are you embarrassed yet Dad? LOL

[sandi @ the whistlestop cafe]

What a great story!
The 'neked' baby picture is the perfect ending. Precious~

[Disinterested Observer]

Once again I find I must compliment the incredible sophistication, refinement, discrimination, intellect and discernment of this blog's readership. It is unusual to find such a large number of individuals with such exquisite taste in one place.

[Sister]

I've been waiting to get my hands on these balls ever since I put meat back on the menu! Thanks Sis!

Oh, and disinterested observer, you were pretty cute as a baby. Must be where I get it from, eh?

[Sis]

Trish note: Do not substitute ground turkey for the beef. You will be very disappointed, as was I :(.

[Tammy]

Yeah, don't do that. And don't get the 99% lean meat, either. You need that fat. Fat tastes good.